Only Words
by lepetitfromage
Summary: Feliciano has woken from a coma unable to speak or understand Italian - but he's speaking near fluent German. His is a rare case, and Lovino hunts down anyone in the hospital who can speak German. Enter Ludwig. While he recovers his Italian with the help of his brother and this interesting stranger, he'll sort out Lovino's guilt and his fateful attraction to Ludwig. - GerIta
1. Chapter 1

Feliciano Vargas had never been in a coma before. Despite how normal the statement was – after all, not too many people ever went into comas – he never thought he'd attest to the contrary.

It was the oddest feeling. Rather, it was the oddest sounds that permeated his lost consciousness. He couldn't feel a thing, physically, and he couldn't even move. But he could hear garbled, muffled noise – like he was listening to a conversation from ten feet underwater. They were voices, he was sure, because at certain times, when his consciousness was alert enough to pick up the noise, he heard his name.

… _Feliciano_…

… _Feli_…

This happened off and on for a while. He really wasn't sure about the time. It all seemed timeless, yet coincidentally drawn-out.

He heard his name sandwiched between more muddled noise, and then his mind slipped away from him again.

.

Feliciano opened his eyes, squinting and blinking violently in the face of bright daylight. His body felt heavy, so weary, he could barely turn his head. He lay back and looked around the ceiling.

Bright white, nothing else. He tuned his ears to the sounds around him. Again, he didn't hear much; perhaps there was the sound of footsteps, but those seemed far away.

He needed to look around.

Feliciano used all his strength to lift his head slightly from the pillow he was laid on. He noticed two things right away. He seemed to be in a hospital, as he was dressed in a pale, hospital blue gown with a hospital grey blanket over his body and a hospital bed underneath him. The second: his big brother, Lovino, was asleep at his bedside.

Lovino was holding onto his hand, his head lay on his folded arm across the bed. Feliciano smiled.

He put his energy into squeezing Lovino's hand, tightening his fingers around his palm.

Lovino must have been sleeping lightly because he raised his head, blinking slowly.

"Feliciano?" he said.

Feliciano smiled and squeezed his hand again. Lovino's eyes widened, his other hand coming to grasp his hand as well.

And then Lovino opened his mouth and gibberish poured out.

Feliciano's smile dropped and his mind prickled with anxiety. Lovino was talking to him, he was surely asking him questions. He couldn't understand anything he was saying. Except for his name.

"Feliciano?" Lovino asked, concerned. "Feli?"

He couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. Tears brimmed at the edges of his eyes and spilled over his cheeks.

"Lovino," he said, not sure he trusted what he was about to say next.

Lovino said his name again, and some mixture of words that sounded like he was prompting Feliciano to speak.

"Lovi, are you okay?" he began, voice a little hoarse from disuse. Lovino's jaw dropped open in shock. He was silent. It was all starting to scare him more. "Lovino, what's wrong?"

Lovino didn't cry, he didn't move.

"Lovi–"

His brother scrambled out of his chair, saying something indistinguishable and holding his hand up as if to tell Feliciano to stay where he was. Where else could he go?

Feliciano watched in wide-eyed panic as Lovino ran out of the room. He was alone, he couldn't remember what happened to put him in the hospital. And he and Lovino apparently couldn't understand each other.

His breaths started to come shallower and shallower, tears steadily streaming. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to control at least one thing.

Lovino returned only a minute later, a nurse in tow. He took to his chair again and grabbed Feliciano's hand while he and the nurse spoke to each other in words he couldn't understand.

The nurse touched his other hand and Feliciano looked to her with teary eyes. She looked calm, if a little confused. She moved her hand in front of her mouth as if telling Feliciano to speak.

Feliciano swallowed and said, "I don't understand. What's going on?"

It was the nurse's turn to look stunned. She quickly composed herself though and stuttered out, "_Sprechen Sie Italien?_"

Feliciano paused. Her grammar wasn't quite right, but he understood well enough. _Did he speak Italian?_

He didn't know. He supposed so… was that what she and Lovino were speaking? He opened his mouth to attempt Italian, but his mind drew a blank.

He felt his hands begin to tremble. After another minute trying to remember any Italian, he tearfully shook his head.

The nurse looked back and forth between him and Lovino. She said something to Lovino and then spoke to Feliciano. "Um… _Sie_," she said, pointing to him. "_sprechen… Deutsch_."

Her sentence was terribly mangled, but Feliciano pieced it together. _You speak German. _

_ You are speaking German._

He gaped. Was that why Lovino couldn't understand him?

The nurse situated the bed table in front of him and pulled a pen and piece of paper from her clipboard. She placed them in front of him, indicating for him to write.

Slowly, Feliciano wrote what was first on his mind. _Why can't I understand you? Why am I speaking German? Should I be speaking Italian?_

The nurse looked over his note, but shrugged her shoulders, saying something to Lovino.

Lovino looked on the verge of tears. Feliciano knew his brother and knew that Lovino was on the edge. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and typed something, then showed it to him.

He'd pulled up a translator and where it read _Italian – German_: "Don't cry. I'm going to go find someone in this hospital who can speak German. We'll figure this out."

Feliciano wiped at his eyes, nodding. Lovino rose from his chair and stalked purposefully out of the room.

While Lovino did this, the nurse had been checking his vitals and recording the machines' readings on her clipboard. Feliciano was trying to compose himself, for Lovino, but hiccupped whimpers bubbled out of him. The nurse leaned against his bed and took his hand, squeezing it. She was a kind-looking woman, middle-aged, with a gentle grasp. Feliciano leaned his face into her side and cried quietly while she silently stroked his hair.

Ten minutes had passed before Feliciano heard a commotion outside his room. He quickly sat up, wiping his eyes once more, eagerly awaiting Lovino, hoping he'd found somebody.

Lovino did enter, returning straight away to his side, and he watched as a man entered behind him.

The man was nearly as large as the doorframe; wide shoulders, tall, seemingly well-muscled. He looked a little hesitant, a little severe, and Feliciano clamped down on his nerves. This man was his only hope at the moment.

He was blond, blue-eyed, and extremely clean-cut. He spoke briefly with Lovino, then the big man turned to him.

"Your name is Feliciano?" he asked slowly.

Relief flooded him in an instant and Feliciano quickly replied. "Yes. Do you know why I can't speak Italian?"

The man's brow furrowed and he said, "No, I'm sorry, I'm not a doctor." He coughed. "My name is Ludwig. Ludwig Beilschmidt."

Feliciano lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Of course this man didn't know what had happened to him.

Ludwig spoke some more with the nurse and Lovino. The nurse offered him a chair and Ludwig sat next to Feliciano.

"Feliciano?" he began.

"Yes?"

"The nurse is going to get the doctor on staff. We're going to ask you some questions. To figure out why you can speak German, but not Italian. Italian is your native language, right?"

He swallowed. "I think so. If it's Lovino's it should be mine, I suppose."

Ludwig asked Lovino something, but their conversation was taking a long time, and Feliciano was panicking again.

He grabbed Ludwig's hand, not thinking, and said, "Please, Ludwig, talk with me. I don't know what's happening and it's scaring me."

Feliciano could recognize pity, and he saw it there in this man's eyes. He didn't really care though, given the situation they were in. Ludwig said something short to his brother and then turned to him.

"How did Lovino find you?" he asked Ludwig.

"I brought my brother here. He was… bitten by a stray dog and bleeding pretty badly. Your brother caught us as we were walking out."

If Feliciano could just distract himself away from his situation… "Oh! That's horrible. But wait, you were leaving? Is your brother still waiting?"

"It's okay. I told him to go without me. I live close by."

Just then, the nurse returned with a doctor behind her. Feliciano and Ludwig paused their conversation so Ludwig could speak with the others. With the foreign sounds bashing his ears again, Feliciano wrung his hands in his lap. He looked to his brother and his heart saddened. Lovino was watching Feliciano with such dejection in his eyes, and was that also guilt? What did Lovino have to be guilty for?

"Feliciano?" Ludwig said.

He looked to him and the doctor.

"The doctor wants to ask you questions, to determine how much you can recall, and see what could be the problem."

Feliciano bit his lip and nodded.

Ludwig took a deep breath, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Do you know where you are?"

He was a little surprised that the answer didn't come immediately. He thought about it. What were he and Lovino doing prior to coming to the hospital? Where were they? From the limited view out his window, he could see tall buildings.

"Um… the city."

"Which city?"

Feliciano was starting to worry that he'd forgotten, but like an answered prayer in the final hour, it came to him. "Rome."

Ludwig nodded. "Where do you live?"

"Here, Rome." Everything Feliciano answered was fact-checked by Lovino.

"What about your parents?"

Nothing could make him forget that. "They died a long time ago. Lovino and I were raised by Grandpa."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"How old is Lovino?"

"Twenty-five."

Feliciano answered a slew of obligatory questions. What year was it? Who was the president? What is your birthdate?

And then: "What happened to put you in the hospital? What do you last remember?"

He was sure it was something serious, but Feliciano was drawing a blank. He didn't know. "I don't remember," he replied meekly. His eyes brightened on a sudden memory. "I was with Lovino though, but I don't remember what we were doing."

He glanced at his brother for confirmation, but all he saw was pain in Lovino's eyes.

"Feliciano?"

"Yes?" he turned back to Ludwig.

"Have you learned German before?"

Feliciano opened his mouth, but closed it, unsure. Lovino said something and Ludwig translated. "Lovino says you took some classes in high school."

_Yes, he did_. "Oh, I did. But… I don't think I was any close to fluency as I seem to be now… We've also been to Germany a couple times… Does that matter?"

Ludwig consulted with the doctor and he said, "Yes, it does. Feliciano, I'm going to tell you about the accident you were in, and how it might have affected you."

Feliciano felt anxiety stir in his stomach.

"You and Lovino were driving out of Rome, to visit your grandfather. A driver crashed into you and the car flipped. Lovino was driving, you were in the passenger seat. Due to the impact, you sustained a severe head injury. You've been in a coma for a week. The doctor won't know until she can do some scans, but she thinks that you've sustained damage to the areas of your brain that process and make sense of language. It's rare for a primary language to be lost but she guesses that your Italian has been inhibited, and so your brain is falling back on your second language, German."

"But…" he said, slowly processing everything. "My German was never this good."

More consulting with the doctor, then, "Because your brain doesn't have to juggle two languages, it's opened itself to all the knowledge of German you have, but has been tucked away since you learned it. It seems immediate improvement in the second language is not uncommon in situations like yours."

Feliciano felt better, knowing there was a scientific explanation for this. "Will I ever remember Italian again?"

"It's very possible for your brain to recover. Can you understand any Italian right now?"

He shook his head. "I can't understand or speak it."

The doctor and nurse conferred with each other and then it seemed they had finished with questions for the time being.

"They're going to order you some brain scans," Ludwig told him. "Since your Italian can come back at any time, they suggest you help it along by trying to read and speak."

Feliciano felt like he was in school all over again, assigned a language he had little knowledge of. But he nodded, telling himself that he needed to do this. Especially for Lovino's sake, because when he looked to his brother, his heart broke.

The doctor and nurse had left, and Lovino had propped his feet on his chair, hugging his legs, his forehead pressed to his knees.

"Ludwig?" Feliciano asked him quietly.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me – remind me how to say 'brother'?"

Ludwig's blue eyes flit from Lovino's unmoving form to Feliciano. He didn't know whether to call them pitying or sympathetic. Ludwig's statements had been very concise, and his orderliness was evident in other aspects of his person, such as the way he held himself, the extremely neat way in which he was dressed and groomed, and he seemed to have a tight control over his emotions. But Feliciano could read his eyes, and they, at least, gave him hope.

"_Fratello_."

He repeated it in his head, wanting to get this one simple word right. "Lovino, _fratello_," he said gently. Lovino picked his head up from his knees, looking sadly at him. _Please let Lovino understand this_. "I love you."

Lovino's jaw clenched and his eyes shone. He was trying to hold back tears. Lovino never liked to cry in front of people, not even Feliciano.

He was beginning to think that Lovino hadn't understood him at all, but then he nodded and replied, in a whispery voice attempting to hold back a sob, what Feliciano heard to be, "_Ti amo._"

He hoped it meant what he thought it meant. In addition to being emotionally reserved, Lovino was never outwardly affectionate. Feliciano thought it amusing that they were so opposite in these two traits, despite being confused for twins most of their lives. Feliciano was only sad he couldn't hear it in a language he understood.

Lovino picked himself up out of his chair and mumbled something. Then he left the room.

Feliciano glanced anxiously at the door.

"He said he's going to find you some magazines. To practice."

In truth, Feliciano had briefly forgotten Ludwig's presence, the man was so silent. He also looked torn between staying to help Feliciano and making an excuse to leave. Feliciano could see it in those eyes that were the only way into his thoughts.

"Feliciano. While your brother is gone, I feel the need to let you know something."

"Yes?"

"When Lovino was explaining the accident…" he paused, searching for the words. "Lovino is convinced that the accident was his fault. That you going into a coma was ultimately his fault. Believe what you will, Feliciano, but from what he and the doctor had said, it seemed like a freak accident."

Now Feliciano had an explanation to go with Lovino's uncharacteristic sadness. "I was never going to blame him, Ludwig."

"Well," he said, smoothing his hands over his knees. "I thought you should know."

"Thank you," he replied, smiling.

Ludwig watched him a moment longer, then coughed. "I'm, ah, glad I could assist today."

He made to get up and Feliciano's anxiety spiked. He lurched forward and grabbed Ludwig's arm. "I'm sorry! I mean, thank you very much, Ludwig, I don't know what I would have done without you, but please." Lovino wasn't back yet, and the thought of being alone, unable to speak to Lovino or anyone, really, brought back the fear. "Can you stay just a little longer? Just– just for the rest of today!"

Ludwig sighed. Feliciano just wanted him to stay a couple more hours, at least. In all honesty, he didn't think Ludwig would easily agree but it was a shot he was desperate to take.

To his surprise, Ludwig took his seat again and said, "Alright."

Feliciano, never adept at masking his emotions, grinned and clasped Ludwig's hand in a tight grip in utter relief. "Oh, thank you, Ludwig! Thank you! I promise, when I get out of the hospital I'll repay you!"

Ludwig's gaze darted everywhere but Feliciano's. "I-It's okay. That's not necessary."

"Of course it is," Feliciano replied sternly. "You're giving up your free time to spend time with and translate for a stranger. You're a saint."

It didn't escape his notice the way Ludwig's ears pinked.

"I think it's great that you know both languages. What do you do, Ludwig?"

"I'm, ah, a German language professor. Here in Rome."

"No wonder you speak Italian so well. At least, I trust that you do. You must need to in order to teach here. Professor Ludwig!" Feliciano giggled, thinking of this stern, serious man in front of a class. Ludwig's lip twitched in what Feliciano suspected would be the closest he was going to get to seeing the man smile. It made him grin until his eyes crinkled.

The door opened and a sullen, yet wary, Lovino entered. He held a stack of magazines in his arm and his eyes looked redder than when he'd left. Feliciano sobered at the thought that his brother might have been crying. And Feliciano couldn't comfort him with words.

He sat in his original seat, eyes glued to Ludwig's hand, which was still clasped between Feliciano's.

Without losing energy, he let go of Ludwig's hand and made himself open to Lovino. He figured that if he couldn't necessarily talk to him, then he could help Lovino be more comfortable with him. It was all so hard. It was like his own brother was more of a stranger than Ludwig was.

Lovino and Ludwig shared a brief conversation, Lovino terse and more agitated than before. On the one hand, Feliciano was glad the Lovino he knew and loved was coming back. On the other hand, he didn't like that his brother's attitude was directed mostly toward Ludwig.

Ludwig instructed him to pick a magazine. Lovino would help him read it, then Ludwig would help him translate it. They worked like that for a while, until Feliciano was able to retain the easy, repeated words. But it was still nothing like before the accident.

With his brain cramming what it thought was an entirely new language, Feliciano tired soon after their lesson began. Visiting hours were over soon and the sun was setting.

Feliciano grabbed Ludwig's hand again as he made to leave. "Remember," he said, smiling, "I want to repay you when I get discharged."

Ludwig sighed. "Fine."

A bit nervously, he said, "Could I have your number, Ludwig? I want to be able to arrange something with you when I get out, but… if you could do me a favor? Can I call you, if I need to talk to you?"

Ludwig didn't reply right away, and Feliciano bit his lip.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig. I know you've done so much already, but–"

"That's fine."

Feliciano blinked. "What?"

Ludwig took a pen and a sticky note from his side table and wrote down his number, handing it to him. "I don't mind."

Feliciano beamed. "Thank you! Oh! _Grazie!_"

Ludwig's lip twitched again, his ears looking slightly pinker than they were minutes ago. Feliciano watched him say goodbye to Lovino as well and exit the room.

Lovino rose once again, hastily flashed his palm and said, "_Aspetta_."

Feliciano remembered that one. _Wait._

Lovino followed Ludwig out the door. Feliciano's nerves churned in his stomach. He wasn't sure how Lovino felt about Ludwig, but he could guess that it wasn't anything too positive. Lovino never liked many people.

But Feliciano himself… he thought Ludwig was kind and patient. He thought of how Ludwig spent nearly his entire day sitting with Feliciano – a stranger to him! – and taking the time to translate. He may have been a language professor, but it was still a tough job to do without planning for it.

Feliciano found himself smiling at the thought of that big, serious man. He really hoped he would get out of the hospital soon.

* * *

><p>Ludwig was at the end of the hallway when Lovino called out his name. Judging by how the tetchy man had acted throughout the day, Ludwig didn't want to spend more time than necessary talking to him. For some reason, Lovino didn't like him, it was plain to see.<p>

"Hey, you," he said, approaching him. Lovino only came up to his nose in height, but he sure knew how to puff himself up. "I need to tell you something."

Ludwig refrained from sighing. "Yes?"

"Thank you. For today," he said, as if it were paining him to do so. "But don't get involved with Feli anymore. He'll get better, and he doesn't need extra people hanging around."

Ludwig faced him squarely. "Can you converse with him in German?"

Lovino reacted as if he'd been slapped. "No, but–"

"Feliciano asked permission to call me while he cannot speak Italian, and I agreed."

"He gets attached to people very easily," Lovino retorted, face going red. "We don't know who the hell you are."

"I'm a professor at the university who agreed to help you. And now I'm leaving. I've no doubt your brother will do as he wishes. Goodbye."

Ludwig walked away, Lovino's curses fading as he closed the doors behind him. He thought back to Lovino's actions throughout the day. It was obvious that Lovino was protective of Feliciano, and that he blamed himself for the accident. Perhaps he disliked Ludwig because he could help in a way Lovino could not. It was a guess.

Ludwig pulled out his phone to text his brother that he was coming back. Absently he began flicking through his contacts.

_ Oh._ That's right. He gave Feliciano his number, but he never got his. Ludwig was surprised to find himself disappointed. He didn't really doubt that Feliciano would contact him, but it would have been nice to be able to send a check-up text…

_Damnit_.

The entire time he spent in front of Feliciano he tried to focus only on translating for this man who'd just woken from a coma. He didn't need to be thinking about how easy his smile was, how bright his eyes were – and he didn't even know Ludwig from Adam.

There were times when Ludwig wanted to leave as soon as possible, but then Feliciano had blinked those big eyes, the color of golden topaz, and twisted his slim fingers around his big hands.

Feliciano could not have been more different than him in every way. But he found himself _feeling_ for this poor young man who had taken him so off guard. He had just come out of a _coma_ for Christ's sake. If he'd said no to Lovino, he would have felt guilty for the rest of the day.

Already Ludwig's nosy brother was trying to figure out what kept him at the hospital for hours. He would not, _not_ give Gilbert this one, because he was no match for Gilbert's infuriating stubbornness.

No one but himself would know that he maybe – quite _possibly_ – wanted to see Feliciano again.

Just to make sure he was doing alright, of course.

That was all.

* * *

><p><strong>Hot damn this was supposed to be a one shot. This is a concept I think about from time to time, and after some googling I found that it's an actual thing. Fortunate, too, so that the science behind it wouldn't have to be stretched. I had some difficulty deciding on which characters to use, and ultimately decided that these guys fit best.<strong>

**Please enjoy this first bit while I figure out what I'm doing next~ Thanks, much love!**


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going to stay with you for a while," Lovino said as he rummaged through his drawers, throwing clothes into his suitcase. "The doctors may say you're fine, but I'll reserve judgment for myself."

He briskly entered his bathroom, collecting various toiletries and dumping them in his suitcase that lay open on his bed. Feliciano sat next to it, watching Lovino silently.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here, with me?"

Feliciano chewed on his lip, nodding without meeting Lovino's gaze.

Lovino made a short grunt in the back of his throat. "It's probably better to keep you around familiar surroundings anyway. Not that my place is unfamiliar," he mumbled to himself while packing. "You're here as much as you are there."

Lovino made one last sweep around his apartment, unplugging appliances and electronics, locking the windows. He heaved his wheeled suitcase to the floor.

"Alright, Feliciano. Let's go."

Lovino had to swing his head around more than once to make sure his brother was following him. Feliciano had been silent all day, ever since his brain scans, ever since he'd been discharged with orders to rest and practice his Italian.

For he was still speaking German, his Italian still locked away. However there was one positive Lovino had discovered after fetching breakfast from the cafeteria. Feliciano was now able to _understand_ Italian. Not completely, but it was a stride forward. At least he'd know what Lovino was saying, despite replying in that language that grated at his ears.

Lovino got them a cab and gave the driver Feliciano's address. With his suitcase in the trunk and Feliciano next to him in the back seat, Lovino turned to him.

His brother had been eerily quiet all day. They'd shared a brief moment of celebration when they'd discovered Feliciano's ability to understand him, but shortly after he'd become withdrawn. Suddenly, he didn't want to reply to any of Lovino's questions and sometimes he chose not to speak at all. That probably unnerved Lovino more than the German coming out of his mouth. A Feliciano that didn't talk… it was unheard of, worrying, and scary, if he were being honest. On top of his silence, Feliciano wouldn't make eye contact, there was a seemingly permanent sad furrow to his brows, and he held himself listlessly. All of these were completely unnatural for Feliciano, and Lovino was more than just a little worried.

Feliciano's apartment was on the sixth floor, and when they arrived at his door Lovino had to snap him back to attention to ask for the keys.

Wordlessly, Feliciano unlocked his apartment and stepped slowly inside. He went through the motions like a cross was bearing down on his back; flicking the lights on, shifting old mail around the countertop, finally settling himself on the sofa.

Lovino ignored him for the time being, instead bringing his suitcase into Feliciano's spare room, unpacking, pulling curtains aside, mindlessly straightening up anything remotely askew as he made his way back out into the living room. He saw Feliciano on the sofa, hands between his knees, chewing on his lip in deep thought. He sighed heavily.

Lovino had planned to have his own pity party, but because of the state Feliciano was in _someone_ needed to keep the little dolt moving. And it looked like it was going to be him.

He took a seat on the sofa, facing Feliciano, noticing how he didn't look his way or even away from his lap.

"Alright, Feli," he said. "What's the matter?"

His brother's big, sad eyes glanced up at him, acknowledgement that he understood him. He just wasn't about to answer with words.

Feliciano shrugged and Lovino heaved another sigh.

"Speak," he said. When it was evident that Feliciano would not, Lovino asked, "You can still understand me, right?"

Feliciano swallowed and quietly replied, "_Ja_. Um… yes." He had been practicing quick responses in Italian, as opposed to German.

"Then what's the problem?"

Feliciano began wringing his hands. It was only when he started absently scratching at his hands that Lovino separated them.

"Stop doing that. You'll hurt yourself."

He let go when he was sure that Feliciano would stop. He tried again, "What's got you like this, Feli?"

"_Es tut– _erm. I am sorry," he said weakly. He took out his phone, typed something into a translator, and showed it to Lovino.

_It's just difficult_, was what he said.

Lovino was sure that a simple sentence like that wasn't hard, especially after all their practice with the magazines the previous day. He told Feliciano to try his best to use Italian, even if it wasn't totally right, but he didn't expect him to completely clam up just because it was _difficult_.

Even so, Lovino's own heart fell. After all, Feliciano wouldn't have this difficulty, he wouldn't be so miserable if Lovino hadn't… done this to him.

He schooled his expression. Feliciano didn't need Lovino's issues on his shoulders. To hide his burning eyes, Lovino pulled Feli against him.

His brother's head fell naturally onto his shoulder, Lovino's arm coming around him.

"It's okay, Feli," he said. "Don't give up."

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

It was Lovino who was sorry.

"Stop it," he mumbled, but it was without his usual chagrin.

Feliciano rest against him for a while longer, and Lovino let him. It was the least he could do for him at the moment.

When the light on the walls grew dimmer, the shadows announcing sundown, Lovino stirred.

Feliciano sat up and wiped his eyes. Lovino stood, giving him time to do so.

"You don't have much food. I'm going to the store to get dinner supplies. Do you want to come?"

Feliciano shook his head, but put on a weak smile, a shadow of his normal brightness. _I'll be okay._

"Fine. Text me if you need anything."

Lovino closed the front door behind him and took a deep breath.

He glowered when one man interrupted his thoughts. That man, Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Feliciano was so happy talking to him. Chattering on in that grating German. Ludwig barely hesitated to give him his phone number. Oh, he probably thought he'd… _befriended_ an easy stranger. No way, not Lovino's brother.

So far Feliciano had not expressed intent to contact Ludwig and Lovino wondered if he even remembered.

It was just as well. Lovino told that German that he wasn't needed. Feliciano would get better, he knew it. But an infuriating, niggling inkling told him that perhaps Ludwig could help his brother in a way he couldn't. And that made his jaw twitch in annoyance.

Lovino ultimately decided that he would contact Ludwig only as a last resort. Only.

* * *

><p>After Lovino left for the store, Feliciano slowly withdrew his phone and scrolled through his contacts, finding Ludwig's name. His thumb hovered over the call button.<p>

He promised Ludwig he'd repay him, and he intended to. Feliciano turned the screen off. He'd call Ludwig when he wasn't so unsure of himself.

It wasn't that he had a hard time speaking – he could still speak German with near perfect fluency and if he really practiced he could recite a few lines of Italian.

Feliciano was so anxious because he wasn't so sure _what_ to say anymore. Lovino didn't understand a lick of German, and Feliciano didn't want to sour him with his extremely sub-par Italian. Lovino was never a patient person and he was already putting so much blame on himself.

It was obvious, even through the slight haze Feliciano had been in all day. It was also partly the cause of his haze.

When Lovino hugged him, it was such a comforting, nostalgic gesture. Feliciano would admit that he was more outwardly sensitive, and Lovino had always been the one to make him feel better. When he was having a rough time in school, when they lost their parents, through his breakups, Lovino would gripe and grumble, but he'd always give him his shoulder. Sometimes Feliciano was ignorant to his brother's troubles, yes, but he didn't want to be this time.

Even when he knew what was bothering him – that Lovino blamed himself, though only Lord knew why – Feliciano just wasn't used to being the comforter. So when he thought of the words, his mouth refused to open, fearing they'd be wrong. When the German that felt so natural was ready at the tip of his tongue he held it back, not wanting to upset Lovino. When Lovino told him to try Italian, he rarely followed through, not wanting to feel inadequate.

For three days he tried. He'd work himself up, repeating easy sentences over and over in his mind, but ultimately getting cold feet and backing out. Lovino remained patient with him, but it made Feliciano even more nervous.

For those three days Feliciano threw himself into cooking, baking. After the first day, he could sit idle no more. It was a good way to relearn words and phrases he found important – words related to food. When Lovino was out he read the cookbooks aloud, frowning when he felt his mind was no closer to recovering Italian than before. When Lovino returned, he fell silent again, speaking sparsely.

Instead, Feliciano forced himself to smile.

* * *

><p>Ludwig had left his office for the day. It was Friday, the weekend at last. He wanted a beer and for Gilbert to be out of his apartment that night.<p>

What Ludwig was not expecting, on the subway so close to his stop, was a call from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Beilschmidt," came an angry-sounding voice. "It's Lovino Vargas. From the hospital."

Ludwig groaned inwardly. "How did you get my number?"

"I got it from Feliciano's phone, where else?"

At the mention of Feliciano, Ludwig felt an odd twist in his stomach. He hadn't called him in days. Ludwig just assumed that he hadn't needed his help after all.

"Listen," Lovino said, harshly. "My brother hasn't been himself in days. He doesn't talk, he barely smiles and when he does we both know they're fake. He can understand me now but he's so hesitant to speak that he won't speak at all. You don't know him like I do, so believe me when I say that this is all very unlike him. Frankly, it's scaring me and… shit," he breathed. "I don't know what to do."

Ludwig had prepared himself for a rant at his expense, but wasn't prepared for Lovino's genuine concern. "Is still speaking German?"

"Yes. I know he understands me, but as for himself, it's still not clicking. Has he called you at all in the past few days?"

No he had not, and Ludwig told him as much. Ludwig wasn't disappointed, per se, but he had secretly been hoping to hear of some word.

"I need you to help me."

Smugness had him testing Lovino. "You made it pretty clear that you didn't want my help."

"And I just told you that I don't know what to do anymore!" Lovino paused, and Ludwig gave him time. "You need to see him. Get him back on track, or something, I don't know. Just… please, Ludwig."

His brother, Gilbert, joked that Ludwig was stone, immovable and unfazed. He was sure he'd meant it in a good way, but Ludwig often had wondered if those traits worked against him. He liked to think he was just practical. He helped people, if the cause was logical and a solution reachable. Certainly he felt for people, but his practicality stepped in to pick his battles, so to speak. Feliciano seemed a cause with an unforeseeable resolution.

Sure, he was nice enough in the hospital, Ludwig had gathered that much. Ludwig had even thought about him after he was already home, and if that was any indication that Feliciano was worth it, then Ludwig could leave practicality at the doorstep for the moment and at least see what the matter was.

"Okay. I'll help."

"Great. Here's Feliciano's address. He hasn't left the place in days, so he's most likely home cooking something or other."

Ludwig committed the address to memory, exchanged goodbyes with Lovino, and sighed. He stepped back into the metro and retraced his trip by a few stops.

The apartment building was of older architecture than his modern-styled building. But on entering it was obvious that in this case, older meant grander. Ludwig rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and paused in front of Feliciano's door.

_Here goes nothing_.

Ludwig rang the buzzer and waited. A minute passed before the door slowly cracked open. He saw a topaz eye glittering back at him.

Feliciano opened the door the rest of the way in awe. Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of his lips. Ludwig would venture to say that this smile was nothing fake, like Lovino had described. Ludwig felt his own lips twitch in response.

"Ludwig! What are you doing here? How–"

"Lovino called me."

Quick as a flash, his smile dropped and he looked uneasy. "Oh. He must have told you then…"

"He told me some things, yes."

Feliciano started chewing on his lip, but he attempted brightness when he said, "Come in, come in. I was just… baking."

"What were you baking?"

Feliciano fidgeted with some sofa cushions, clearing away bits of clutter. "I made tiramisu. It's mine and Lovino's favorite." He gestured for Ludwig to take a seat as he bustled aimlessly about the kitchen. "Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No thanks." Ludwig studied him a minute. Feliciano was fiddling with his fingers, that unsure smile on his face. Looks like he'd have to be the one to initiate this. "Would you care to come out with me though? We can talk at a café."

There was an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes. "Ah, sure," he laughed nervously.

"You're afraid to go outside, aren't you?"

Sitting across from each other on the sofa, Feliciano's shoulders curved in and he slipped his hands between his knees. He was making himself smaller than he already was.

"Lovino told me you can understand Italian now, is that right?"

"Yes."

"That's great progress."

"But Ludwig I–" he paused.

Ludwig stood from the sofa and faced Feliciano, extending a hand. "Come on. Let's get coffee." On seeing Feliciano's doubt, he added, "You don't have to say anything. I'll do the talking."

Feliciano finally nodded, letting Ludwig haul him up. He was so timid right now, it was such a change from when he was confined to a hospital bed.

Once on the street, Ludwig glanced down at him and took some time to notice. Feliciano was a slim-framed man, not particularly lean-muscled but not too slight either. He and Lovino sure looked alike, though his eyes were darker and his hair was more auburn than Lovino's dark brown. They may have had slight differences in appearance, but in personality they were complete opposites.

"So," Ludwig began. "What cafés are good around here? I don't come to this neighborhood often."

"Oh. My favorite is a couple blocks this way."

Ludwig inclined his head for Feliciano to lead on.

As they walked, Feliciano twisted his fingers in the cuffs of his sleeves and Ludwig found it distracting to the point where the thought to grab his hand just to get him to stop flashed through his mind. And then Ludwig realized he was staring at Feliciano's hands and he coughed, quickly averting his gaze.

Feliciano led him to the café and the nerves radiating off him were palpable.

"What would you like?" Ludwig asked him in line.

"Cappuccino, please."

Ludwig nodded and gave their order to the barista, in Italian.

"Um, Ludwig," Feliciano said quietly. "I'll go find a table."

"Alright."

He watched Feliciano weave his way around customers and tables, looking like a kicked puppy in a den of wolves.

Ludwig sighed. He turned back to the barista and added, "A slice of cake, too, please."

* * *

><p>Feliciano was beginning to think that being totally unable to understand Italian was less scary than hearing it everywhere, unable to form even a sentence himself. With the former, he could at least tune out the unintelligible gibberish. Nobody expected him to reply, then. In the case of the latter, he knew what people were saying but then worried that someone would expect a reply from him.<p>

He'd found a corner table and sat with his back to the wall, watching Ludwig at the counter. Seeing him from afar, Feliciano could see the university professor in him. Confident stance, professional air, he seemed very knowledgeable. Feliciano wondered if he'd come to his apartment from the university. After all, Ludwig was wearing a tailored suit, nice shoes, and an inconspicuous black leather bag over his shoulder. He looked so good, Feliciano wrinkled his nose at his own state of dress.

Perhaps if his mind were functioning apart from _Ludwig asked me out for coffee_ then he would have thought to change into a nicer cardigan at least. He was currently wearing his oversized, gelato-at-noon-butt-on-sofa cardigan. His t-shirt may or may not have been slightly wrinkled, he didn't even want to check. Needless to say, he was not expecting a foray into the world that day.

Ludwig finally approached the table, bearing two cups in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. Feliciano sat a little straighter.

Ludwig pushed the plate across the table to him. It was chocolate. "You look like you could use it," Ludwig said in way of an explanation.

Feliciano smiled. "You didn't have to, Ludwig." He belatedly realized Ludwig had bought their drinks, and the cake. He pouted in mock disappointment. "I'm supposed to repay you, you know."

Ludwig sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers against his cup. "This time doesn't count."

Feliciano felt his insides flutter. This time. _This time_.

"So," Ludwig started, sipping his drink. "Do you work?"

He was a little surprised, he thought Ludwig was going to plunge right in. Feliciano pulled himself up, feeling more at ease.

"Yes, I work for Grandpa. Lovino and I both do. Grandpa has his own restaurants in Rome and Naples, called _Vargas_, have you heard of it?"

"I believe so, though I haven't been."

Feliciano smiled at the possibility of bringing him to their restaurant. "You should come sometime! Lovino and I help manage here in Rome, obviously. Lovino's had to do a lot of the work by himself though, since I was… well, in the hospital. And now…"

"I would like that, thank you."

Ludwig was an interesting person, Feliciano mused. He could accept an invitation to his family's restaurant all with a schooled, casual nonchalance, yet still make Feliciano bloom with happiness and hope. It had to do with his eyes, he noted again. His facial features may have appeared impassive, but his eyes seemed gently pleased.

"Can I ask a question, Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"At the hospital, I just assumed that Italian was your second language. Did you live in Germany before?"

Ludwig blinked, as if he weren't expecting the conversation to turn to him. "I did. With my brother, Gilbert."

"Your brother! How is he?"

"He's fine. As fine as he'll ever be," he said under his breath in the familiar way of siblings. "He's down here visiting right now."

Feliciano couldn't help it when he laughed lightly at the thought of Ludwig with his brother.

Ludwig tilted his head. "What is it?"

He was still grinning when he said, "Oh, nothing. What's Gilbert like?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "He's loud and a pain in the ass, especially when he drinks too much."

Feliciano giggled. "That sounds like me." Ludwig raised an eyebrow, confused. "At least, that's what Lovino says. Minus the getting drunk part. Though there were a couple times," he trailed off, reflective. "Lovino has told me that I get really affectionate. Well, more than I usually am, at least."

Was Feliciano imagining the flushed tint to Ludwig's ears? He stifled a smile at his expense. It sure was endearing though.

"How long have you been teaching at the university?"

Ludwig cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Ah, just over a year."

"So you must have only been here that long, right?" Feliciano confirmed. "There must be a lot of the city you still have to see! I would love to show you around."

Feliciano hadn't even thought of his anxiousness in going out for this simple conversation over coffee. He'd been a nervous wreck, worried that at any moment someone was going to expect him to talk to them, worried that at any moment his brain would falter and the buzzing around him would return to gibberish noise, though that seemed implausible now. Feliciano's ability to understand, as well as his memory, was getting better every day. He hoped it wouldn't be long until his Italian came back.

So it surprised him, in a distracted way, that he was so eager to explore the town with Ludwig. His musings were distracted because of the man sitting in front of him. Feliciano had to pay attention to Ludwig, otherwise he'd miss all the little signs and details – details he didn't want to miss. Like how he seemed to become bashful when talking about himself, how his lips twitched when Feliciano said something amusing, and how his eyes softened when Feliciano was speaking. Feliciano saw them all, and it made the hope in his chest bloom more and more with each passing moment.

He noticed the café becoming less populated as time went on, and an idea popped into his head.

"Ludwig, would you like to come over? I told Lovino I would cook tonight," he said. It was a flimsy excuse for him, because Feliciano cooked almost every night, but Ludwig didn't have to know the finer details. "I was thinking of making something from Grandpa's menu. You could get a taste of what we serve."

Feliciano's heart beat expectantly as he waited for Ludwig to reply. He wanted nothing more than to spend a couple more hours with him.

"Sure."

Feliciano grinned.

* * *

><p>Ludwig did not expect to be cooking alongside Feliciano that night, though he found himself more often sweeping and wiping up his small messes in between his own few culinary tasks. He didn't mind the tedium that came with keeping an eye out for Feliciano's less than tidy hand, a cloth at the ready to clean up whatever spill he made.<p>

No, what he _did_ mind was the fact that he… sort of enjoyed it. It perplexed him, because for him cooking was practical. He needed to make the food to eat the food, while making as little mess as possible. Gilbert rarely cooked, but when he did it left Ludwig more stressed than grateful.

Feliciano was content, humming tunes and flitting from counter to stove, a soft smile on his face all the while.

It hadn't escaped Ludwig's notice that ever since their conversation at the café began, he hadn't stopped smiling. Ludwig knew the subject of his language anxiety needed to come up, but every time Feliciano smiled he couldn't bring himself to dampen his mood. He liked Feliciano's smiles.

"Have you ever cooked anything like this, Ludwig?"

He was glad Feliciano's eyes were on the food, because he was staring.

"Um, I can't say that I have."

"I haven't cooked for anyone in a long time."

"Don't you cook for Lovino?"

"That doesn't count." Feliciano tilted his head to the side in thought. "Hmm. My last boyfriend liked my cooking," he said, glancing up at Ludwig. "But that was about it."

"Gilbert doesn't cook. I try to keep him out of the kitchen, actually."

Feliciano laughed. "What about you? Do you cook?"

"Sometimes. I–" the words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I bake, more often."

Feliciano lit up. "Really? I like them equally but there's just something more fun about baking."

Ludwig scratched his ear, mumbling some agreement.

At that moment, the front door opened and Lovino entered, noisily dropping his bags and kicking his shoes off.

Ludwig watched in rapt curiosity – and ultimately in concern – at what unfolded next.

Lovino called out a neutral, "I'm home."

Feliciano lifted his face from the food cooking on the stove and swung around, grinning. "Lovi!" he exclaimed. "Welcome back. I'm making one of Grandpa's dishes. I invited Ludwig to join us. He's never been to the restaurant but–"

Like a flash of lightning over his face, he stopped talking, eyes averting from Lovino's stunned expression. He idly wiped his hands on the dishcloth.

"_Mi– mi dispiace_, Lovi," he mumbled.

Ludwig caught Lovino's eye. He sent him a silent warning.

Lovino shook his head. "No, Feli, it's fine."

Ludwig decided that some translation might have been of use. "He said 'welcome back.' He's making something from your restaurant."

"I see," he replied, giving Ludwig that familiar critical eye. "You know about our restaurant, then."

Ludwig nodded, unperturbed by Lovino's shrewdness. "We went out for coffee, and had a nice conversation."

Feliciano flashed him a small, grateful smile.

He was trying to stay bright throughout dinner. Lovino was obviously a little skeptical of Ludwig, but Ludwig paid him no heed. He quietly encouraged Feliciano, in German, to speak in whatever language he wanted. Ludwig dutifully translated any German, and implored Lovino, with a steely eye, to reciprocate.

As far as less than comfortable dinners went, this one wasn't so bad. Lovino had mellowed out after a glass of wine and Feliciano had gained confidence in speaking.

He was preparing to leave, and he noticed Feliciano fiddling with his hands again.

Feliciano walked him to the door. "Thank you, Ludwig, for spending the day with me."

"It was no problem," he replied, finding that he also rather enjoyed the day. "Thank you for dinner."

Feliciano smiled. "You're welcome, but this didn't count."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I was going to make dinner anyway, and I always make more than Lovino and I can eat. So," he drawled, his lips twisting up into a smirk. "Consider the debt still unpaid."

Oh, he meant repaying Ludwig for his hospital services. "Ah, very well then."

"Would you… like to go out again soon? I can show you some places around the city you haven't seen."

Ludwig thought that that was actually a nice idea. He hadn't taken the time to sightsee in months. And the historical sights around town had some interesting information attached to them. "That sounds good."

"Great!" Feliciano clapped his hands together. "Um, _ciao_, Ludwig!"

Ludwig nodded. "_Ciao_, Feliciano."

* * *

><p>Feliciano was so happy he could burst. He made sure Ludwig was in the elevator at the end of the hall before closing the door behind him with an unabashedly ecstatic smile on his face. <em>He was going out again with Ludwig<em>.

Lovino came out of his bedroom, seeing Feliciano by the door, and his eyes narrowed.

"You like him," Lovino said.

Feliciano's heart began to race. "_C– cosa?_"

"Don't give me that. You _like_ him. You have a crush on him."

So what if he did? Lovino was just being crabby and critical like always. Feliciano would have just shrugged and gone back to being silent, but he felt like he needed to defend himself on this, or defend Ludwig, he wasn't sure. Ludwig had told him to use a translator if he needed, that there was no shame in it.

Feliciano pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed into the translator. "I asked him to go out with me soon, and he said yes," he typed.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Sure, but did _he_ know you meant it as a date? He seems really thickheaded."

Feliciano pouted in admonishment, but Lovi did have a point. He hadn't specified it as a date, but Ludwig had given him every sign! "He likes me too," he typed to Lovino. "He bought me coffee _and_ cake today, he accepted my invitation to the restaurant, and he came back here and made dinner with me. I can just tell, I know he likes me."

Lovino huffed. "Just don't have too many expectations."

Knowing Lovino, that was as good as an assent. Feliciano threw his arms around his brother, laughing.

In broken Italian he said, "Thank you for calling him, Lovi." He hoped he understood.

His nerves were relieved when he felt Lovino's hands pat his back. "Yeah. You're welcome. Now get off me."

* * *

><p><strong>I have a much better grasp of this story now. Thanks for reading darlings!<strong>


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